At the entrance to the show are 2 extraordinary mannequins. The first in red glass beads and a sea of scarlet ostrich feathers and the other a long, severe gown made completely of 8” long razor clam shells layered from neck to floor like an indigenous costume of some lost tribe. Immediately and jarringly I see that I’m in a world not even remotely of my making. The first room which shows his ground breaking graduate collection from London’s Central Saint Martin’s College is so conceptually complete and audacious that I’m standing and staring like a tourist who’s visiting the planet Earth for the first time. The adjoining wall has this written on it: “ You’ve
got to know the rules to break them…” It’s abundantly clear that in the first moments of his life as a designer, McQueen learned the fine and complicated craft of tailoring and then spent
the rest of his career undoing, redefining and subverting it to his own ends. Unlike many designers, his knowledge of the techniques of cutting, draping and tailoring cloth gave him the ability to leap from the highest peak and fly wherever he wished. Exquisite jackets, suits, tuxedos, and jumpsuits stand all around like specimens from another world. They begin as recognizable garments and then morph into something else. His quiet, masterful hands make it all look as though they were always this way. The patterns are all drafted and cut by his own hands… no army of assistants, yet, and still they’re precise, perfect. From there I hear a howling wind, baying wolves and a sense of foreboding rises in my stomach. This next room is a hall of mirrors, dark, antiqued, smoky mirrors that rise 15 feet overhead with what appears to be vitrines like the Victorian scientist’s Cabinets of Curiosities. The spirits of Poe, Darwin and yes, McQueen are loose in this disturbing space where the woman
has devolved to resemble ravens, wraiths and ghosts. Black is the color of everything. Leather harnesses snake all over the bodice of a shredded gown with millions of ruffled layers. The harnesses, which could be described as sado
-masochistic accessories, are more a cryptic form of lace with their intricate perforations and the sheer multiplicity of their number. Farther along the wall is a model with a pair of wings made of laser cut balsa wood attached to her body by a harness. It just stops you in your tracks. I wait for the guard to chase down another camera toting tourist and shoot it for posterity. There is yet another piece that makes me feel as though I’m in the presence of something divine. She’s a creature completely rendered in black duck feathers. Think the final scene of Black Swan and multiply that costume by 1000 and you begin to get the power of this creation. The room that is exceptional in its breadth of oddly, customized monitors showing segments of his shows, countless examples of shoes, jewels, head dresses, even a coral b
ranch as a crown, armor, and other accessories was like something more akin to the Museum of Natural History. A group of artist collaborators, namely Philip Treacy
, Shawn Leane
whose cast silver crown of thorns and matching thorn bramble that climbed the full length of an arm, and Dai
Rees Balsa wood wings and a skirt of the same material that was as circular fan all laser cut like lace was as intimidatingly profound as McQueen's clothing. There's simply way too much to try to share without going on forever. I admit that my feeling about McQueen was that he was a bit of a renegade with pretensions of being a couturier and suffering from some self indulgent bad mood for the sake of the press and stores who always think a designer has to have a gimmick to be taken seriously. I was wrong. The show goes on and on exploring his vision of the Romantics, his Scottish heritage and the direction his view of the world was going. Is his vision savage? I’d have to say yes. Is the work beautiful? Beyond question. I have a much greater respect for his commitment to his work and his passion for his dark muse. Though the skill involved in the expression of these ideas is cerebral in the extreme, mapping these deep, disturbing layers of the soul is something only very few have the courage to do. Alexander McQueen was an artist of the highest order. His contribution to the world of fashion will be remembered for many years to come and his loss is a hole that will never be filled. I walked away feeling that he said what he came here to say. He wasn
’t cut off or cut short. His message has a clear beginning and end. Only the end is a clarion call to the rest of us to go forward with eyes more open and searching, ears to hear the sounds that disturb, and hearts that are willing to embrace the total experience of life. You need to see this show; it’s beautiful.
Unlikely that I'll be able to travel to NYC to see this astonishing exhibit.
Your video of McQueen's unique designs convinced me of something I had wondered about: The ability of anyone to carry on the Alexander McQueen label. The answer is No.
Some things were meant to bloom and grow and then to die. His designs should live in memory, in archives. The notion that anyone else can carry his house's label is heresy.
Happy to see it trough your eyes. What a great experience.
WINTOUR AT THE MET: On Tuesday, Anna Wintour was named elective trustee of the Metropolitan Museum of Art — making her a voting member of the board and recognizing the editor in chief of Vogue at the institution she has championed for many years. Wintour, who had been an honorary trustee of the museum since 1999, has co-chaired 13 benefits since 1995 and raised approximately $85 million for the Costume Institute. Last week’s gala brought in $10.4 million.
Money Money Money makes the world go round... from Cabaret
I usually do not like fashion exhibits at museums, but your article makes me want to see this.
He really was a great artist.
your expertise as designer and astute connoisseur of taste really illuminates so many aspects of this show many would overlook. what i wouldn't have given to have walked with you through the exhibit and talked at length about the muses who spoke.
I was planning to see this show and your thoughful critique only heightened my anticipation.
blah, Blah, Blah LEE the original LEE(& we all know who that was), was brilliant, authentic and had the courage and humor to face life with deft - this lee(the copycat), indeed, was the lucky & talented imposter - as you referred had the
As a Catholic, I was quite appauled and saddened by the references to our suffering Lord in the form of a Crown of Thorns hat with blood covering the face of the manequin. I am also surprised and perplexed by the delight on the faces of the masses viewing this exhibit so degrading toward women. The Met should be ashamed of itself, however they will be too buisy counting their money to notice they have offended many.
Post a Comment